Category: Poetry

My life, O Lord, has a been a wreck
I’ve steered it down t’ward doom.
I’ve turned my back on you, my God
And driven you from my home.

But there’s a space inside my heart,
A space that stills needs You.
An emptiness within my life,
O Lord, please make me new.

Father, reach down Your healing hand
And wash me white as snow.
Lift me from the pit, my Lord
And in your steps I’ll go.

And when my life on this earth ends
I’ll vanish from the crowds.
I’ll turn my gaze to heaven Lord,
And meet You in the clouds.

Lying in the dark, images flood my mind.
Some of life, some of death.
Images in progression, with no control.
They sweep through; each taking, each leaving.

Pictures of friends – some gone, some loved.
Others thought of, dreamed of, figments.
Some loved – living.
Some gone, remembered, dead.
I shed a silent tear.

Tints of yellow rise up and dance.
Leaping and singing.
Shades of blue – monstrous, overwhelming.
Yellow becomes green becomes blue.
Colours in progression, smothering, smothered.

Patterns of brown and black
Expand and grow, twist and contort
Becoming another.
Black lines between brown boxes swell
Filling my field of view, though my eyes are closed.
The boxes become tears, smaller and smaller.

Perceptions alternately sharpen and dim.
All images pass into
An infinitely distant geometric point
Surrounded by nothing, yet perfectly clear.
Images consist wholly of detail, with no structure.
Then edges lose their definition, images retreat.
The point fades to nothing. I sleep.

She is an owl
A creature of the night.
Her days are drowsy
Spent in a semi-slumbering state.

In the light
She takes only a passing interest
In places
In people
In things.
Her wide eyes look
But see only what
They must.

Until the night.
She begins to come alive.
She rouses herself
And things
Of the places she will go
Of the people she will see
Of the victims she will
Take
Her hands are talons
To hold fast her prey
She flies into
The night.

“Come on my son, the time has come to stretch your wings and soar.”
And I was scared, I will admit: it’s something I not done before.
“What if I forget what you’ve taught me? What if I fail?
I know I’ll not survive if I don’t learn quickly to sail
The wide blue sky.”

“I’ll be with you all the way, my son. I’ll not let you down. I love you too much for that.”
“Then I’ll put my life in your hands, Father. I’ll trust in you alone.
Only you and your teaching can bring me through unscathed. In your strength I’m going.”

“Help me! I’m falling! I’m going to die! How could you do this to me? I believed in you – and look at me! Can I trust no-one?”
“You can trust me, son. Remember my instruction before it’s too late. Quickly – open your wings. You have them for this purpose alone. Spread your wings and soar with me, son!”

“Do you see all this, son? These mountains? The plains? The tall strong trees? That mighty river? The clear red sunset? Do you see? Do you like it? I lay it all before you.

“This is your inheritance.”

Why do we live?
What purpose do we serve?
To live and learn,
To work and die,
What purpose do we serve?

Behind it all there must
Something, Someone in control.
A single figure,
A simple answer.
What purpose do we serve?

We live here on this earth,
We love here, but who cares?
Is there Someone out there
Pulling all the strings?
Is this the purpose that we serve?

We work here all our lives
In order to survive.
So what?
We all must die.
We serve Death’s purpose.